


Piano Strings

by surveycorpsjean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, M/M, Piano Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7658896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surveycorpsjean/pseuds/surveycorpsjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi is in love with his piano teacher. </p><p>Okay, no. You’ve got to understand, this isn’t a <em> crush. </em>  Crushes are for the weak. Crushes are for those who pass by the football jock in the hallway and giggle. Okay, no. <em> No, no </em>. This isn’t a crush.</p><p> <br/>This is like, a goddamn sickness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piano Strings

**Author's Note:**

> for my wonderful friend tia :)) happy birthday you angel

Yamaguchi is in love with his piano teacher.

Okay, okay. I _know_ what you’re thinking. Sweet summer love! Flower petals. Uh, bath bombs?

Okay, no. You’ve got to understand, this isn’t a _crush._ Crushes are for the weak. Crushes are for those who pass by the football jock in the hallway and giggle. Okay, no. No, no. This isn’t a _crush._

This is like, a goddamn sickness.

His piano teacher's name is Tsukishima Kei, and Yamaguchi literally wants him to throw him over the piano and fuck his ass so raw he can’t walk for a month. Okay? No sweet summertime lovin’. This is some _Grade A Magic Mike Lust._ 50 Shades of Grey shit, despite the god awful comparison.

Yamaguchi started taking lessons on a whim. He’d hit that point in his life, fresh out of college, a little down because his degree is about as useful as a decorative hand towel. He’d woken up one day and thought _I’m going to learn something new._ Better himself. Ingrain a little class, ya feel?

His good buddy Suga, or as named in his phone, _Kinky Bitch #6,_ had recommended a friend of a friend of a friend. Yamaguchi trusted Suga. Suga is a relatively good person.

But now _Suga cannot be trusted,_ because when Yamaguchi first saw the guy, all long legs, blonde hair, pretty eyes behind pretty glasses, his heart literally sunk into his dick, and has stayed there ever since.

“Alright.” Tsukishima nods, sitting tall on the second piano bench beside him, “Go ahead and run through your scales.”

“Okay.” Yamaguchi rips his eyes away, reminding himself that it’s _not_ okay to mentally undress his teacher right now. He starts with the C scale, works his way up to F, and gets stuck at F sharp. He keeps hitting the wrong key – it sounds slightly off to his ear, but not enough to tell which note.

“You’re missing the last E sharp.” Tsukishima says. He lifts his hand up to the piano, and _oh here we go –_ he begins the scale flawlessly, all long fingers gliding over the keys through practice. Goddamn, were his hands sculpted by the gods? The knuckles are just the right size, leading down through wiry tendons. His nails are well shaped, smooth and pretty. His wrists are nice too, flushed and alive under the veins that trail up his arm like a-

“Tadashi?”

“S-sorry.” Yamaguchi laughs, and lifts his hand to the piano once more.

“Remember, six sharps.”

“Right.”

He does the scale, gets it right, and moves on. The G, A , and B scales he remembers, thank goodness.

“Good.” Tsukishima hums, low in that beautiful voice of his. “Did you have a song you wanted to start with today?”

“Anything but classical.” Yamaguchi grins, wiggling to sit on his hands.

Tsukishima lets out a small breath- a teeny, tiny laugh. He stands from the bench; Yamaguchi watches his ass as he turns towards his bookcase full of sheet music.

“Of course, classical is too _boring,_ right?”

Yamaguchi smirks, “I like to live dangerously.”

“Well, since you finished that intermediate book, I think you could start on some harder songs. Any genre requests?”

“The entire Frozen soundtrack.”

Tsukishima lets out another little snort. Yamaguchi writes another tally on the mental _Made Him Laugh_ list. Tsukishima squats down to thumb through the books on the lower shelves; Yamaguchi’s soul leaves his body.

“How about Jazz?”

“Oh.” Yamaguchi blinks, “That sounds interesting, I guess.”

Tsukishima picks out a song book, opens it on his thighs and thumbs through a few pages. Yamaguchi’s eyes fall back around the room. There’s two pianos shoved against a wall, and a guitar resting against the bookcase. It’s a small room – the living room of Tsukishima’s small home turned into a studio. There’s a couch, for the parents who come to listen, as well as a few chairs for the guitar students. If Yamaguchi turns, he can see the inside of his home, tidy and bright. It smells good in here. It literally _always_ smells good in here.

“We can start with Henry Mancini.” Tsukishima says, standing. He crosses towards the piano and sets the book up on the stand.

“Sounds fancy.” Yamaguchi grins, “Does that mean I can become one of those piano players in the middle of Nordstroms?”

Tsukishima’s lip twitches upwards, and he takes a seat next to Yamaguchi on the bench. “Is that the end goal?”

“That, or to write jingles for Meow Mix.”

Tsukishima’s eyes look to him, an amused look on his face. Yamaguchi thinks he could melt, literally, right here on this bench.

“Good luck with that. The Meow Mix jingle is already golden.”

Yamaguchi laughs; he hates the sound of his own laugh, but Tsukishima nearly smiles, so it’s worth it. Oh _fuck_ is it worth it.

“Let’s start then. Do you want to hear the song?”

“Please and thank you.” Yamaguchi grins, and shifts to the far left of the seat. Tsukishima leans in close, his left thigh pressing against Yamaguchi’s. He’s so warm - even through his jeans Yamaguchi can feel his body heat.

He watches Tsukishima’s right foot adjust above the sustaining panel, and his fingers hover over the piano. His posture is perfect, back straight, shoulders relaxed. His eyes scan over the music once, before he begins to play. It’s a soft song – but it’s got a swing to it. It’s relaxing, but in all honesty, Yamaguchi is hardly paying attention.

Instead he watches his hands glide over the keys. His wrists are propped up, fingers reaching stretches that still hurt Yamaguchi’s untrained hands. _Fuck,_ how can someone’s hands be so beautiful? Oh god, Yamaguchi wants those fingers up his ass _so_ bad. He wants him to tap out _Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5_ against his thighs.

He watches Tsukishima's body lean forwards to catch the pedal, his body so attuned to the rhythm. His gold eyes occasionally flicker down to his hands, then back up to the music effortlessly. Yamaguchi wonders what it would be like to sink beneath his thighs – choke on his cock behind the piano where no one else can see.

Tsukishima finishes the song, like, way too soon. Yamaguchi comes back to the real world, and blinks away the arousal when Tsukishima looks his way.

“That was beautiful.” Yamaguchi grins, “I can’t wait to learn it.”

* * *

 

“I’m in hell.” Yamaguchi says over the phone, upside down on his bed, the pads of his feet braced against his wall.

“ _Hell probably isn’t that bad._ ” Suga replies, “ _If the Christians are right, then it’s just gonna’ be full of gays.”_

 _“_ Okay, but I’m in an eternal hell _without_ dick.” Yamaguchi rolls over onto his stomach, “I’m so desperate, Suga.”

“ _Just how desperate is ‘so desperate’?”_

“I literally want him to shove his entire foot up my asshole.”

" _Okay._ ” Suga chirps, “ _That’s desperate. What are you gonna’ do?”_

 _“_ I don’t know! I know nothing about him! Is he straight? Is he gay? I sure as hell don’t know!”

“ _Does he ever take phone calls during a lesson? Has he ever mentioned a lover?”_

“Not even once.” Yamaguchi sighs, “He’s too professional to take a call during a lesson.”

“ _Damn. How old is he anyways?”_

 _“_ The same fucking age as me!”

“ _Ask him out, then!”_

“Dude, I can’t do that. That’s not how being gay works.”

“ _Ask him on a ‘straight’ date. I dunno’, like to an Applebee's or whatever else The Straights do.”_

“You’re absolutely no help.”

* * *

 

He goes with Suga’s idea, alright? It’s all he’s got. Yamaguchi is paying fifteen dollars a week just to get a hardon strong enough to knock down wall Maria. He’s got to do _something._ He needs to curbstomp his MegaCrush™ to the ground - prove that he has zero chances with this guy, and maybe move on.

He’s on month four of the weekly lessons, Yamaguchi figures it’s less creepy to start a real conversation.

“Thanks for the lesson today.” Yamaguchi smiles, gathering his copy of the sheet music.

“You’re welcome.” Tsukishima nods, “You’re doing good. If you sight read the last few lines at home, we can polish it when you come next week.”

Yamaguchi swallows down the silly swell in his chest, butterflies fluttering at the compliment. He tries to play it off cool, shifting on his feet in the middle of the living room, “Sounds good! But um,” he begins, and Tsukishima looks his way, “You’ve been a real awesome teacher, puttin’ up with all my BS. Do you want to go get lunch sometime this week?”

Tsukishima blinks behind his glasses, mulling over the thought in his mind. He hums, runs his tongue over the back of one of his canines. “You don’t have to do that. You’ve been a fine student.”

“I’d like to.” Yamaguchi shrugs. His stomach churns with nerves.

Tsukishima stares a moment longer, before his lip tugs upwards, and he turns to the calendar on his wall. It’s filled with student names and times, some scribbled out, others not. He brings a finger to push across the paper calendar, eyes scanning the names. He hums, “I’m free on Friday, around noon. I’ve got a couple hours.”

Oh _fuck._ Oh Fuck. Yamaguchi didn’t plan on him actually agreeing. His face lights up, and he forces his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. “Really? Awesome!” Oh shit, that sounded too eager. Backpedal _backpedal –_ “ I mean-“

“Where do you want to go?” Tsukishima tips his head, and honestly, fuck him and his pretty eyes.

“I’ve been craving cornbread like a mofo.” He blurts. “Marie Callendars okay?”

“Cool with me.” Tsukishima sticks out his hand, “See you on Friday.”

Yamaguchi shakes his hand, and hopes he can’t feel the sweat on his palms.

“See you Friday!”

* * *

 

_Hey, you’ve reached my voicemail! Leave me a message and I’ll call ya back.  If it’s an emergency, just call Daichi. His phone is always on lol._

_At the sound of the b e e p, please record your message:_

Beep!

“Suga! Answer your phone you hoe! He said yes! What do I do, holy shit, what do I do? What if I say something embarrassing? Holy shit, he can’t know about the wet dream I had about him. He c a n t know, but I always talk when I’m nervous Suga. I’m so fucked! I’m so, fucked. He’s so beautiful though, like, what if I’m eating cornbread and I forget to reply back. Reply! What do I even talk about? I’m not that interesting Suga. I’m-“

Beep!

“-Answer your phone! Holy shit. I…I’m pining like a sexually confused General Shang, Suga. I stalked your friend's Instagram the other day and found him, but it’s _private. What do I do?_ I can’t even lurk and find out if we have any mutual hobbies. I’m so nervous I think my asshole is gonna’ fall out. What do I even wear? I look best in sweaters, but it’s summer. Like, I could wear it anyways, but then he’ll be like what kind of jerk wears a sweater in the middle of July? He’s gonna’ think i'm a huge dickwad. But like-“

Beep!

“-I can’t wear shorts. Like, I have weird knees, you know. I have to wear jeans, but like, what if I sweat? Then I’ll be all smelly and ugly. You can’t rely on Marie Callendars air conditioning, Suga. Shit, shit. What if the service is slow? What if it’s that awkward point where you’re both waiting for your food, and you’ve run out of small talk, so you’re both just looking around the restaurant for interesting things to talk about. Marie Callendars is so boring! I can’t just be like ‘Oh, that Cheesecloth is nice’-“

_Ring, Ring, Ring-_

Yamaguchi prepares himself for the voicemail, then the beep, but it doesn’t come. The line picks up from the other side, and Yamaguchi’s breath rushes out in an exhale.

“ _Tadashi!!! Shut! The fuck! Up!”_

Yamaguchi blinks at his bedroom wall.

“But Suga-“

“ _Daichi is literally balls fucking deep in me right now, but the mood is 100 percent ruined because we could hear your fucking voicemails!”_

Yamaguchi notices, suddenly, that he can hear Daichi laughing in the background. Cackling, actually.

“I’m sorry! I’m just so nervous!”

“ _I can tell! Just calm down, I’ll call you back and we can talk later.”_

“But Suga!”

There’s a distant mumble of _Koushi, hand me the phone._ There’s some off phone arguing, and some rustling, before Daichi grabs the phone and says, “Yamaguchi?”

“Yes?”

“ _You’ll be perfectly fine, I promise. You’re very charismatic when you want to be.”_

There’s a shuffle on the other side of the phone, and a long, choked off moan from Suga.

“I literally just talk out of my ass.”

“ _Then talk out of your ass more! Just chill. He sounds like a cool enough dude.”_

Yamaguchi sighs, rolls over on his bed, and then rolls over again.

Okay, okay. He can do this.

* * *

 

He can’t do this.

Yamaguchi shows up wearing dark jeans and a band t-shirt. He needs a haircut; debated over pulling it up, or leaving it down, so he decided on a low ponytail instead.

He finds Tsukishima there, already waiting for him. Yamaguchi fumbles for his phone, checks the time to see that _no,_ he is _not_ late, Tsukishima is just early. 

“Oh, hey.” Tsukishima stands up off the waiting room chair, and waves.

“Hey!” Yamaguchi smiles, and sticks out his hand. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all.” Tsukishima replies, and shakes his hand. Yamaguchi takes the opportunity to look him over; he’s dressed casual too, skinny jeans, button up and all. Fuck, fuck. _Fuckfuck_ he’s like something out of a wet dream.

Yamaguchi manages to pry his hand away and somehow make it to the table without tripping over his own foot. Tsukishima is refined in everything he does, Yamaguchi notices, from the way he sits, to how he sips his water.

“So,” Tsukishima begins, “was there any other reason behind this impromptu lunch?”

Yamaguchi swallows. Okay, time to talk out of his ass.

“Nah.” He grins, “I just think you’re pretty cool. Wanted to get to know you, is all.”

“Mmm.” Tsukishima hums, and sits back in the booth. His eyes are sparkly and gorgeous, like usual. “What do you want to know?”

“Oh man.” Yamaguchi rubs behind his head, “Like, everything. How long have you been playing piano?”

“Since I was young.” Tsukishima replies. “Mom gave me lessons.”

“And you fell in love with it, I assume?”

“Not at all.” Tsukishima says truthfully. “I hated it at first.”

“No way!”

“Yep. I couldn’t stand all the boring songs they kept trying to get me to play.” He chuckles, and Yamaguchi’s heart swells. “Sound like someone you know?”

Yamaguchi grins, and rubs his nose, “Ah.”

“It wasn’t until I was older that I really gained an appreciation for the art.”

“I bet. I’m glad you stuck with it. You’re super amazing.”

Ah, shit. Reel back the praise, Yamaguchi.

Tsukishima gives a little half smile, “Thanks. What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you suddenly want lessons?”

“Oh.” Yamaguchi shrugs, “I dunno’. I’d just finished my engineering degree and I was like ah, life sucks.”

Tsukishima lets out a snort, “Obviously.”

“Yeah, adult life smacked me in the face, so I was just like _uh, uh, quick, do something new, something exciting.”_

 _“_ Ah, yes, because piano is _so_ exciting.” Tsukishima jokes. Yamaguchi stares at him, blinks twice, because oh _yes._ Ohh, yes. He’s got more personality than he lets on.

“Like I’ve said. I like to live a little on the dangerous side. One time I microwaved my hotdogs for _one_ minute instead of two.”

Tsukishima lets out a full on laugh, and Yamaguchi thinks it might be the best thing he’s ever heard.

“You sure are something else.” Tsukishima says, and picks up his glass to sip.

“That sounds like a bad thing.”

“It’s not.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes, “Believe me. I teach mostly children, so it’s a _god sent_ whenever I get to teach someone who doesn’t ask to use the bathroom every five minutes.”

Yamaguchi snickers into his hand, “Awww, Tsukki is good with kids, yeah?”

He didn’t mean to blurt out a nickname like that, but it makes Tsukishima smirk, so it’s uh, fine.

“Oh yeah. I _totally_ don’t daydream about drop kicking them over my back fence.”

That catches Yamaguchi off guard; he laughs, and laughs, lets out a snort and laughs some more. Oh fuck, shit. He snorts again, unable to stop it now. Tsukishima is looking at him, amusement swimming around in gold, and Yamaguchi’s face flushes.

“Cute laugh.” He notes, and reaches between them to pick off the edge of the cornbread, “But don’t get me wrong. Some are sweet, and it pays the bills, so.”

Yamaguchi rubs away the red on his cheeks, and sniffs, “Do you just teach piano?”

Tsukishima shrugs, “Sometimes I enter competitions.”

“No fuckin’ way!” He blurts, and then covers his mouth. Right. Professional. Damn, Yamaguchi has got the worse potty mouth.

“Yes fucking way.” Tsukishima coos back. “But it’s not all that cool.”

“Psssh.” Yamaguchi grins, “Bullshit. I bet it’s super rad.”

“Well, the next one is in a few months.” Tsukishima shrugs, “You’re welcome to come.”

“No way, really?”

“Yeah.” Tsukishima sips his drink, “I’ll show you real jazz.”

* * *

 

Man oh man. Man, oh man, oh _oh_ man.

That whole concept of curb stomping the MegaCrush™ to the ground kinda just like, went down the shitter.

Tsukishima is _holy shit_ amazing. His tongue is so slick the more he opens up; he’s a little snarky too, which makes Yamaguchi want to stick his tongue so far down his throat it hurts. His _eyes_ too, they’re so expressive. His face doesn’t show much, but his eyes tell his story. Ahhh they’re so pretty. His hands, also – Yamaguchi found his eyes lingering on them as they ate.

Yamaguchi worried about so much, all for nothing. He found himself laughing more than not, giggling because he was genuinely having fun. Like what the fuck? You’re not allowed to have a great personality _and_ good looks. You only get one.

Their lunch ends way too soon; a simple handshake, and a _see you next week._

Yamaguchi goes home and rolls around in his bed for like, an hour.

* * *

 

Their next lesson goes like it usually does – rather professional, Tsukishima taking his time, teaching Yamaguchi slowly. His presence is enough to make Yamaguchi’s heart smack against his ribs – every time he plays he thinks he might swoon. It’s growing _so_ hard to focus. He occasionally makes mistakes, hitting the wrong key, not doing the right posture.

“Wrists up.” Tsukishima corrects. He worms his hand between them, and lifts up Yamaguchi’s right wrist, setting it into position. His touch is warm. Yamaguchi’s body sparks alive. “Pretend you have a ball beneath your palm.”

“Right.” Yamaguchi blinks, and tries playing again. Tsukishima removes his hand, but Yamaguchi’s wrist falls out of habit. Tsukishima clicks his tongue, and Yamaguchi sputters an apology.

“No, no. It’s fine.” Tsukishima nods, “It feels weird. Here.” He shifts a little behind him on the bench; Yamaguchi thinks he might be having heart palpatations. Tsukishima reaches underneath him, arms lightly skimming his own, before he holds supports both of Yamaguchi’s wrists.

“Play like this.”

“L-like this?”

“Yeah. You’ll get used to it this way.”

Yamaguchi swallows – sucks in air, and only gets a giant whiff of Tsukishima, which _holy shit,_ he smells so good.

He tries playing again; he fumbles beneath Tsukishima’s touch. His hands burn, his gut turns. He hits a wrong key or two, but stumbles his way through the song.

“Again.”

Yamaguchi huffs, and tries again. Fuck, Tsukishima is so close.

After fumbling again, Yamaguchi sighs, “Why do I have to hold it like this?”

“Because, if you don’t, you can do major damage to your wrists.”

“Ugh. I wasn’t expecting you to have an answer to that.”

Tsukishima laughs softly against his ear; Yamaguchi’s heart about flies out his chest. He plays again, and again, slowly hitting the keys correctly. Tsukishima eventually lets go of his wrists and pulls back – Yamaguchi manages to hold the position okay.

“Good job.” He praises, and looks up to the clock. “Practice that, and you’ll be able to do octave reaches a lot better.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

“Thank you.” Yamaguchi pulls his hands back into his lap.

Tsukishima looks to him, and his eyes shimmer over, “You’re welcome.” He looks back to the clock once more, “Are you headed home?”

“Yeeep.” Yamaguchi rubs his nose, “I gotta’ go dig through my pantry to see if I can throw something together for dinner.”

“Well, you’re my last student today.” Tsukishima says, rising, “Do you want to stay for dinner? I made like, way too much alfredo earlier.”

Yamaguchi stares, blinking, mouth slightly open. It’s then that he panics _panics panics_ because he was _not_ prepared for this. He’s inviting him? For dinner? _For dinner? F o r d in n er-_

He manages to choke out, “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Definitely.” Tsukishima flicks on the overhead lights to his hallway, illuminating the rest of his home, “I have alfredo coming out of my damn ears.”

Yamaguchi laughs, and follows him into his hallway, “How did that happen?”

“I grievously misread the instructions.”

Yamaguchi laughs, stops, and laughs again harder. He lets out a snort against his will – he doesn’t see the smirk that’s thrown his way.

* * *

 

“Goddamn, this is some dank- ass alfredo.”

Tsukishima snorts from across his small kitchen table, “Now that’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“I’m not kidding.” Yamaguchi digs his fork into the cheese, “Tell me your secret.”

“Cook way too much of it, apparently.”

“There’s gotta’ be more to it than that.” Yamaguchi jokes, “Like this is-“

They’re cut off by a phone. It buzzes, rings twice, before Tsukishima gets to it. He huffs – Yamaguchi holds his breath-

“It’s my brother. Is it okay if I take this?”

“Oh yeah.” Yamaguchi blurts, “I’ll just be here, making out with this gorgeous lady.” He holds up his forkful of alfredo.

Tsukishima sputters out a laugh – Yamaguchi flushes, because fuck, how weird is he? Chill, Yams. _Chill._

Tsukishima nods his thanks, and holds his phone up to his ear with a “Hey,” as he walks into the next room. He doesn’t take too long – Yamaguchi has enough time to look around his small kitchen. There’s a bedroom, and a bathroom, and a second small living room with a T.V. It’s an adorable home.

He doesn’t see any picture frames – nothing of family, or a potential girlfriend, which he guesses is good.

Tsukishima returns to the table, “Sorry about that.”

“No problem.”

“How was the makeout sesh?”

“Steamy.” Yamaguchi jokes back with a grin. He takes a bite, “You missed out.”

“Apparently.” Tsukishima goes for a sip of his own beer.

“So, a brother, huh?” Yamaguchi smiles, “How many siblings do you have?”

“Just one. He’s a pain in the ass.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“Ahaha, is he overprotective?”

“Unbearably so.” Tsukishima sighs, “He still doesn’t think this is a real career.”

Yamaguchi frowns, “That’s not cool.”

Tsukishima shrugs, “Eh.”

“I have a younger sister.” Yamaguchi draws tiny circles against the cheese with his fork, “She still lives with Mom and Dad.”

“Do they live here?”

“Different state.”

“Ahh.”

There’s a pause where Tsukishima takes another sip of his drink; Yamaguchi watches him lick his lips subconsciously, and Yamaguchi has to take a second to _breathe,_ because _fuck_ he wants to do that so bad.

He talks to distract his mind.

“Tell me about your brother, though.” Yamaguchi tips his head with a smile, and hopes he isn’t prying too much.

Tsukishima doesn’t seem bothered, because he settles into his chair and tells him – tells him about his family, his friends, the buddies back in college. In turn Yamaguchi talks too, so carefree, so, so happy.

* * *

 

“Suga I’m so in love him.”

“ _I know.”_

 _“_ He’s beautiful, Suga.”

“ _I know.”_

“He’s so talented.”

“ _I know.”_

“I’m so, so fucked.”

“ _Yep.”_

* * *

 

The lessons continue; they’re still professional, still a danger to Yamaguchi’s heart. He still gets home from work every day and practices on his cheap keyboard, just to impress Tsukishima the next week.

Although, frequent lunches and outings have become, I guess, normal? Yamaguchi invites him over one day to watch some dumb movie Tsukishima has never seen, and Tsukishima agrees. Like who would have thought?

It’s so fun, calling in pizza and scrolling through Netflix to find the shittiest movie on. None of this feels _real,_ despite the pain of it all. Yamaguchi has to sit on his hands, has to bite his tongue, has to distract his brain.

He wants to jump him _so_ bad. He wants to shove his head between those long legs and never return. He wants Tsukishima to pull his hair and smack his ass and call him every bad name under the sun. Yamaguchi _needs_ it. He’s practically blue ballin’, he gets so hard so frequently now. His libido needs to chill the fuck out, but right now Yamaguchi is beyond insatiable.

He wants in Tsukishima’s pants _so goddamn bad,_ it’s ruining his life.

But also…he wants to take his hand. He wants to hold those long, soft fingers while they walk. He wants to pepper kisses from his ears, down to his chest. Ugh.

Yamaguchi needs help. Like, professional help. _Thirsty Bitches Anonymous,_ or something.

_Hello! I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi, and I want my piano teacher's dick so far up my ass it comes out my throat._

GDI.

* * *

 

The theater is a little cold, so Yamaguchi rubs his hands between his thighs. He’s super, _super_ excited. He’s been watching the program intently, waiting impatiently for Tsukishima’s turn.

Each pianist is very talented indeed, but Yamaguchi cannot _wait_ to see Tsukishima play.

The piano up front is a big Grand, gorgeous, and intimidating. There’s a panel of judges up front, and reserved seating. Yamaguchi sits towards the back, in one of the few seats left open.

When Tsukishima takes the stage, Yamaguchi’s heart about pops. He’s dressed in a slim black suit, bowtie, cufflinks and all. He’s so damn tall and slender, the suit pants fitting his legs so well. Yamaguchi looks up to his face and _oh god._ Oh fuck. His hair is slicked back. His _hair is slicked back. This is not a drill his hair is-_

 Tsukishima takes a bow up front, and takes his seat at the piano bench. Yamaguchi worms up to get a better view. He considers taking a video.

Tsukishima breathes in, hovers his hands over the keys, and begins to play. Yamaguchi doesn’t recognize the song, but frankly he doesn’t need to. Tsukishima’s fingers glide over the keys gorgeously, eyes narrowed into focus. The song is classical, and beautiful, and Tsukishima plays like he belongs there.

Yamaguchi swallows, and breathes the best he can. If he wasn’t screwed before, he certainly is now.

* * *

 

“You were incredible!” Yamaguchi says after, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Thank you.” Tsukishima nods, face indifferent, but his eyes sparkly.

“Sorry I didn’t bring flowers-“

“No, no.” Tsukishima places his hands in his pockets, casual and hot as fuck. “I really appreciate you coming.”

Yamaguchi notes, vaguely, that he was the only one to run up and meet him. He doesn’t ask about that.

“Do you wanna’ go out for a drink?” Yamaguchi smiles, “I’ll pay.”

Tsukishima’s thin eyebrows push together, “Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Definitely.” Yamaguchi grins, because yes, yes. It’s more than okay.

_Hang out with me. Spend time with me. Be my friend._

* * *

 

The bar they go to is quiet, even in the late hours. Their booth is secluded, far from the music.

Yamaguchi’s eyes still follow his hands as they talk; he still can’t bring himself to focus on anything else _but_ Tsukishima. Gold eyes. Round lips. Cute nose. Wispy hair. 

Yamaguchi is super careful on his alcohol intake; he knows he’s a blubbery drunk. Tsukishima seems to hold his alcohol well, which is a turn on in and of itself.

As the night turns, they talk. Yamaguchi realizes, faintly, that they’ve been doing this for months. He realizes that Tsukishima is a friend now. That he tells him about his day – that he texts him on occasion – that he knows his interests, his favorite foods, his likes and dislikes, the names of his family members, and the face he makes when he really, really laughs.

The night turns on, and Yamaguchi dances across the line of tipsy. A waitress comes by, a skinny little thing, cute butt, pretty face. She drops by more drinks and slides away with a smile. Yamaguchi hums, and takes his drink, eyes following her as she saunters away, “Cute girl, huh?”

“Mm, yeah. I guess.” Tsukishima takes his drink as well.

“What, not your type?” Yamaguchi teases.

“Nah, wrong team.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

Yamaguchi stares, and stares. For the first time _ever_ he sees Tsukishima’s cheeks flush a barely there tone of pink, but by the time he blinks, it’s long gone. His throat constricts, and his heart swells with an unhealthy amount of hope.

“Oh.” Is all Yamaguchi can say.

“Does that make you uncomfortable?” Tsukishima asks, over his drink.

“N-no.” Yamaguchi sputters, and rubs his nose with a grin, “I uh, swing for both teams.”

“Really?” Tsukishima’s eyes widen in interest.

“Yep! Didn’t figure it out till I was outta’ highschool.”

“Wow.” Tsukishima blinks back to his drink.

“You?”

“I think I was born singing Glee.” Tsukishima jokes, “It was literally no surprise whatsoever when I came out of the closet.”

Yamaguchi lets out an unrefined laugh, and almost knocks over his beer while doing so. “You’re fuckin’ kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. My mom was just like _yeah, uh huh, we know thanks,_ and I was mildly horrified.”

Yamaguchi laughs more, such a huge weight lifting off his shoulders. Tsukishima smiles back for once. Yamaguchi thinks about that smile all the way home, even as he crawls in bed that night.

* * *

 

Work is boring, boring, boring. Yamaguchi wonders if he has enough money to afford multiple lessons a week. He just wants to _see_ Tsukishima. He’ll sit there and watch him teach children for all he cares. He just wants to hear Tsukishima's voice, watch his fingers glide over the keys.

“Yamaguchi?”

“Right!” He sits up, “Sorry. Uh, I was thinking we could uh, run the plumbing through here.” He points to his plans, and tries to keep on subject as best he can.

* * *

 

“Like this.” Tsukishima says, hands moving over the keys in an effortless rhythm.

Yamaguchi scrunches up his nose, “It’s hard.”

“It’s all in the timing.” Tsukishima lectures, and plays it again. Yamaguchi tries, but fails. “Here,” Tsukishima picks up a pen, and taps against the edge of the piano. He repeats the rhythm once, twice, three times. “Play as I go.”

“Okay.” Yamaguchi breathes and tries to play with him, Tsukishima tapping, Yamaguchi playing.

Despite that, he zones out. Instead, focusing on the tendons of his arms, the way they curve up into his sleeve, where it’s rolled up above his forearms. He slowly falls away from the rhythm, his eyes attracted to the skin of his neck, his cheek, his nose.

Tsukishima stops tapping. He raises an eyebrow.

“Yamaguchi?”

He doesn’t respond. There’s a moment where it all comes crashing down, everything, everything that’s been building up. The sleepless nights, the fun, jittery lunch dates, the piano recital, the piano _lessons-_

He thinks, here, of all days, of how much he completely adores him. Yamaguchi thinks of how _hard_ his heart has squeezed every day, of how badly he wants to just, just-

Yamaguchi presses his face into his hands and breathes, eyes falling shut.

“Tadashi?” He tries again, his voice a little different than usual, “Are you alright?”

“Shit, I.” Yamaguchi blubbers, “I can’t focus.”

“That’s okay, we can-“

“No.” Yamaguchi swallows – he’s not sure where this is coming from, but he’s hit with this sudden wave of _need._ The feeling that he can’t keep doing this. He can’t just keep this all inside, like some big ugly secret. He pulls his hands down, and looks Tsukishima in the eye. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’ve got it so bad for you.” Yamaguchi blurts out, “So, so bad. I- I know you’re trying your best to help me, but I can’t even hear a damn thing anymore. A-All I can focus on are your fucking hands, and your eyes, and _god_ I’m in so, _so_ deep.” He shudders out a breath; Tsukishima stares at him with wide, round eyes. Yamaguchi can’t stop his mouth now, “I asked you out to lunch _months_ ago because I thought I was smitten _then,_ but fuck, it’s only gotten so much worse.”

Tsukishima stares, and stares. With each ticking moment Yamaguchi feels like dying.

“You’re serious?” Tsukishima manages, slowly, and gravely.

Yamaguchi panics, “ _Yes,_ oh my god, literally. I’m so sorry to make you uncomfortable but _fuck_ all I can think about is slamming you up against a wall and –“

Suddenly, roughly, out of nowhere, there are hands that twist. Yamaguchi lets out a yelp as he’s pulled to the floor, down to thump into the soft plush rug that stretches across the livingroom floor.

Tsukishima lands above him, one hand in the back of his hair, the other pressing into the ground. Yamaguchi gets only _one_ second to look into his eyes and see something _completely amazing_ , before his mouth presses hard against Yamaguchi’s and everything goes blank.

Yamaguchi forgets how to kiss back, forgets how to _be_ kissed, forgets what a damn kiss is anyways as soon as Tsukishima slots their lips together. The hand in his hair pulls harder, Tsukishima kisses like he’s got an agenda. Yamaguchi’s brain eventually clicks on and he gasps, loud against his lips, eyes squeezing shut, kissing back as hard and as good as he can.

Tsukishima tastes better than he ever could have imagined – fuck, he kisses amazing too. His head dips back and presses in with every kiss, lips slurping together wet and loud with spit and tongue. It’s so hurried and messy, and not like a first kiss should be, but it’s so _desperate,_ so good, that it scratches an itch Yamaguchi has been clawing at for months.

His back arches off the carpet and he moans a little too shamelessly, his chest pressing up against Tsukishima’s looming bodyweight. Fuck, it’s so good. It’s so, it’s so-

“I cannot fucking stop,”  Tsukishima kisses, “thinking about you,” he presses harder, “and your stupid hair.” His hand worms back around in his hair, and releases the ponytail it was in. Yamaguchi nearly keens, slips his tongue out to run against Tsukishima’s bottom lip because he can.

Yamaguchi’s blood burns, his chest aches, his body _vibrates._ He chokes out, “You’re lying.”

“Fuck.” Tsukishima pulls back far enough to speak, “Do you know how hard it is to teach a lesson when you look at me like I’m the goddamn sun?” He presses in close enough for Yamaguchi to count the specks of gold in his eyes, “I’ve wanted to _destroy_ you since day one.”

Yamaguchi’s head thumps back against the floor, and an unceremonious _groan_ is ripped out of his throat. The knee between his thighs presses harder, Yamaguchi thinks he might die.

“I hope you’re a kinky bitch.” Yamaguchi chokes off, “If not you’re in for a roller-coaster ride.”

Tsukishima smirks, “How about you find out for yourself?”

“ _Fuck._ ” Yamaguchi moans, already hard, like a damn kid.

Tsukishima presses back in for one of those incredibly amazing wet kisses, and Yamaguchi meets him half way, hands pressing up his arms, feeling the lightly toned muscle there. His fingers skip up to his ears, rolls around the cartilage and pull back to thumb through the blonde curls he adores so, so much.

“Nnn-“ Yamaguchi hums, “-s-shouldn’t we like, go on a d-date before all this?” _Not that I’m complaining._

 _“_ We’ve been dating for months.” He purrs, “Practically.”

“True that.” Yamaguchi groans, “Now, excuse me while I dry hump your leg.” He drives his hips up and lets out a strangled noise, as the pressure relieves the need a little.

Tsukishima lets out that little laugh, you know, the small huff that keeps Yamaguchi hard at night. Tsukishima’s mouth moves down against his ear, opens his mouth, breath ready to say-

There’s a knock on the door. They both jolt.

Tsukishima sits up on his knees and looks at the clock: Six p.m.

“Fuck.” Tsukishima growls, “I forgot about my next student.”

“Holy shit.” Yamaguchi breathes in, blinking away the foggy arousal, “ I’m so sorry-“

“No, no.” Tsukishima pants out, and rubs a hand across his face. “I should’ve been watching the time.”

Yamaguchi sucks in air, and sits up too, running his fingers through his tousled hair. Tsukishima stands, and sticks a hand down his pants to adjust himself- which, mind you, makes Yamaguchi’s head _reel –_ before he offers a hand to help him up.

“Thanks.” Yamaguchi mumbles.

“Welcome.” Tsukishima sighs. “Sorry about-“

“No worries.” Yamaguchi cuts him off. “What’s the next day you have free?”

Tsukishima quickly glances at his calendar, “Uh, I think Saturday?”

Okay, okay. Three days. Yamaguchi can deal.

“Alright.” Yamaguchi smiles. “I’m off that day.”

“Cool-“

There’s another knock on the door.

“One moment!” Tsukishima calls, and then sighs again. He eyes Yamaguchi, skims over his face, brown hair, freckles and all, before he leans forwards with a smirk. Yamaguchi is compliant, letting him press a slow, formal kiss against his lips. Yamaguchi does jolt, however, when he feels a hand worm down between his legs.

“I’ll finish this on Saturday.” He hums, and squeezes the outline of his dick for emphasis, “Don’t touch yourself until then.”

Yamaguchi’s throat dries up entirely, his eyes going wide. At that moment, all the blood in his body rushes south- why is that such a turn on? Holy hell?

The fucked up part of his brain cheers _,_ screeching _yes, yes yes, tell me what to do, tell me, tell me-_

Yamaguchi manages a faint nod, and Tsukishima smirks. Yamaguchi fumbles with his sheet music and barely makes it out the door, passing the white mom and her kid, toeing on his shoes in the meantime.

* * *

 

Yamaguchi goes home and lays in his bed for a long, long, _long_ time.

* * *

 

Each minute feels like an hour. Each hour feels like a _century._

Work is still boring – there’s a lot to do, yes, but Yamaguchi would rather be home. Actually, no, he’d rather be at his piano teacher’s house, sucking out his soul through his dick.

Yamaguchi rests his head in his hand. He thinks about the conversation he had with Suga yesterday, where he _screamed_ and then he _panicked_ and then he screamed a little bit more for good measure.

What if Tsukishima takes back what he said?

What if he doesn’t?

Yamaguchi is faintly scared of both.

He shifts a little in his seat, slacks rubbing against the fabric of the chair. True to Tsukishima’s word, Yamaguchi hasn’t touched himself yet – but _fuck_ does he want to. His mind won’t stop replaying the scene over and over, Tsukishima’s knee between his thighs, his lips kissing with so much authority. Maybe if they weren’t interrupted, they would’ve fucked there, on his floor.

Damn, Yamaguchi is going to _die_ of blue balls.

* * *

 

Saturday rolls around, but takes its damn sweet time doing so.

Yamaguchi would be a liar if he said he didn’t agonize over his appearance today. Of course his hair wouldn’t listen to him, cow licks curling where he doesn’t want them. Of course his favorite shirt shrunk in the wash. Of _course_ his choice of jeans ripped in the knee.

He keeps with the ripped jeans anyways. Thinks it makes him look edgy. Like, he could walk past a dog on the street and not even feel the urge to pet it.

He knocks on the wooden door of Tsukishima’s home. He only has to wait a minute or two before it opens.

Tsukishima stands there, tall in all his glory, face neutral, eyes pretty and gold per usual. He’s wearing a baseball t-shirt, the base grey, the sleeves black, and holy fucking shit on a _stick_ it looks good on him. Why do tall, skinny  dudes always look so good in baseball shirts? Are they genetically designed that way? Is it a secret only known to the feds?

“Hey.” Tsukishima nods.

Yamaguchi smiles, “Hiya.”

“Come on in. I literally just made tea.”

“Well what a coincidence,” Yamaguchi grins, as he walks in, and toes off his shoes, “I just so happen to be a huge slut for tea.”

Tsukishima gives a small laugh through his nose, and closes the door behind Yamaguchi. “So, how have you been?”

“Good. Blue ballin’ like a sonofabitch.”

Yamaguchi pauses. That wasn’t supposed to come out of his mouth.

Except Tsukishima laughs, heartily, pausing halfway in the entry of his kitchen. He wipes underneath his glasses and grins, “I assume you’ve been good for me, then.”

Fuck. _Fuuuuuuck._

“Of course.” Yamaguchi flirts, “What do you take me for?”

Tsukishima doesn’t answer, instead, eyeing him once before turning around to pour tea. Yamaguchi takes a seat on his couch; it smells good in here, like usual. Tsukishima hands him the cup, and Yamaguchi takes it with a nod. Tsukishima sits down as well, glass mug between his fingers.  

“So…” Tsukishima begins, “We should talk, probably.”

“Probably.”

“Sorry. About uh, slamming you into the ground on Wednesday.” Tsukishima says, through a half smile.

“No, no. I liked it.” Yamaguchi blurts, because he has no _filter god fucking dammit Yamaguchi-_

Tsukishima’s eyes glisten next to him, before turning down to his drink with a smirk. “What is it you want, exactly?” They’re on opposite ends of the couch, close, but it feels so far.

“Relationshipwise?” Yamaguchi chews on the inside of his cheek, and then says, “I’m kinda’…I… I prefer going steady, but if that’s not what you want, I’m down for whatever.”

“Mmm, good.” Tsukishima hums, “Because I don’t do flings.”

Something in Yamaguchi’s chest tightens. It might be hope. Or indigestion.

Tsukishima’s long, pretty fingers trace the outline of his cup, before running along the handle in subconscious patterns. He looks at Yamaguchi – through him, maybe – long eyelashes flickering with each blink. Yamaguchi forgets what words are.

Tsukishima watches him and says, “Are you sure you want to date me? I have a horrible personality.” His words are deep, and honeyed.

“Please.” Yamaguchi blurts, “I’m fucked up too. Every morning I check underneath my kitchen sink because one time I saw a mouse slip in there and he never came out, and if that bitch won’t pay rent, then he can’t live in my house, and it _keeps me up at ni_ -

He cuts himself off when Tsukishima starts laughing, like, _actually_ laughing, wiping underneath his glasses when his eyes water.

“Fuck.” Tsukishima breathes out, “I adore you.”

Wow, okay. Um, Yamaguchi’s face turns like, three shades too dark. He sets his cup down on the coaster resting on the coffee table.

“I’m a terrible person.” Tsukishima explains, fingers running around the edge of his cup, “I like manipulating people. Like puppets.” He looks up, “Especially lovers. They leave because I’m rough. I want to humiliate them. Throw them around.” He hums, “I want to pull your strings, Tadashi.”

Yamaguchi swallows, and manages a pained, “ _Please._ ”

“Mm.” Tsukishima hums, “But you know what’s odd?”

“W-what?”

“I also want to tuck you away.” Tsukishima coos. His voice is so alluring. Yamaguchi digs his nails into his palms when Tsukishima’s voice dips lower, “Protect you from anyone else. That’s weird, for me.” He shrugs, “You’re interesting.”

Yamaguchi hasn’t touched his cup in a few minutes, instead, still digging his nails into his palm. Tsukishima is watching him, and it’s completely different. Before it was as a teacher, but _now_ he feels like prey.

“You look nervous.” Tsukishima states, blinking, “Is this too much?”

“N-no.” Yamaguchi half laughs, and wiggles on the soft couch cushions. “It’s just…it’s…” He breathes, and catches Tsukishima’s full attention. “Have you ever…wanted something so bad, and once you got it, you’re not sure what to do with it?”

Tsukishima pauses, before his eyes shimmer over. He smirks, and reaches over to set his tea next to Yamaguchi’s.

“That’s fine. We can go slow.” He looks to him, and pats his lap, “Come here.”

Yamaguchi blinks, “You’re serious?”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond; he stares, expectantly, long enough for Yamaguchi to swallow the nerves and shift closer. Hands slither around his hips, and prod Yamaguchi to straddle his lap. Here, Yamaguchi can feel the heat of his thighs against him, and long, trained fingers sliding around the small of his back.

Yamaguchi lets out a little nervous breath, now so close, now able to count the flecks of gold in his eyes. He’s so beautiful.

“There.” He hums, and thumbs down to Yamaguchi’s hips. “Not so bad.”

“Not at all.” Yamaguchi breathes, and settles down against him. He brings his hands up to Tsukishima’s neck, slowly, and rests them there. 

“How about this?” Tsukishima’s hands trail up, and down, “You lead. I’ll follow.”

“You’re surprisingly nice, for a puppeteer.” Yamaguchi grins.

“I may be fucked up, but I’m not a complete dickwad.”

Yamaguchi laughs, and tips his head, slotting their lips together smoothly. Tsukishima kisses back, by just a bit of pressure, lower lips sliding as the kisses actually begin. They pull back and press once, Yamaguchi’s body warming, just from this. It’s more comfortable – a little easier on Yamaguchi’s heart. He breathes in through his nose, and feels around the shorter strands of hair on Tsukishima’s neck. His glasses press into Yamaguchi’s cheek, so he uses his free hand to push them up to rest on his head. Lips continue to slide and press.

Tsukishima is, actually, being quite patient, letting Yamaguchi decide when to wiggle his hips, and when to kiss deeper. Tsukishima welcomes Yamaguchi’s tongue, and slides it against his own with a surprisingly erotic slurping sound. Tsukishima’s home is quiet, but the summer cicadas sing outside, and the occasional car drives by.

“Tell me,” Tsukishima murmurs, as the kiss slows, “what you don’t like.”

Yamaguchi hums against his lips, and brings his hands down to the bottom of Tsukishima’s baseball tee. He plays around with the hem, before his fingers slip beneath, and feel around the little V that dips under his jeans. “No ball gags.” He thinks, “Or any gags at all. Just…don’t put it in my mouth if it’s not distinctly attached to you.”

Tsukishima snorts, but does nod, “Alright. Anything else?”

 “Nothing clown related.”

“Pff.” Tsukishima tips his head away from the kiss to laugh, “I don’t know what would bring _clowns_ into the bedroom, but alright. No clown foreplay.”

Yamaguchi laughs too, and purrs a little when Tsukishima’s fingers slip around to grab his ass. “And you?”

“Feet.” Tsukishima wrinkles his nose.

Yamaguchi laughs, “Are you podophobic?”

“No.” Tsukishima’s index finger feels up the seam between Yamaguchi’s asscheeks, “Feet don’t even bother me. I just… dated someone with a foot fetish once, and…it…was not for me.”

Yamaguchi giggles again, and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth, “Darn. I guess I’ll have to go find someone else to makeout with my foot.”

There’s a light pinch at his hip, and Yamaguchi yips, giggling still. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, before he pulls Yamaguchi’s shirt off all the way, and sets it on the couch next to them.

“Mm.” Tsukishima hums. He looks across Yamaguchi’s slim chest, and maps it out with his fingers, “I hope the rest of you is freckled too.”

“It is.” Yamaguchi flushes.

“Perfect.” Tsukishima notes, and leans his head forward to delve his tongue between Yamaguchi’s collarbones. The latter purrs, and sits up a little on his knees, feeling him bite across bone, and suck on skin.

“Are you a biter?”

“Are you not?”

“Touché.”

Tsukishima smirks; his fingers drop back down, and swirl around the button to his jeans. His fingers dip and press where Yamaguchi is lightly tenting. He traces around it; Yamaguchi gasps, like a damn teenager, and drops his head against Tsukishima’s shoulder. 

“I said I’d take care of this, didn’t I?” Tsukishima wonders aloud. “What if I don’t?”

Yamaguchi makes a noise of complaint – his brain is already turning hella mushy, like when the old T.V.s would go to static. Tsukishima just smells so _good,_ and his hands are so, so nice, touching his skin, tracing him like he’s done it before. Yamaguchi is on cloud nine, ten, eleven...

Tsukishima digs his palm into Yamaguchi’s crotch – Yamaguchi groans, and grinds his hips down against him.

“You’re hard already.”

“Of course.” Yamaguchi retorts, “I thought about you all nn- week.”

Tsukishima makes an appreciative noise, and pops the button to his jeans, “Already so good for me. I knew you were a catch, Tadashi.”

He shivers and trembles more when hands undo his jeans completely, and push them down to his thighs, as far as they'll go with Yamaguchi straddling his lap. Tsukishima traces his hipbones, down, and around his thighs, and bare ass. Yamaguchi’s skin sparks, chest squeezing, cock throbbing. Tsukishima thinks aloud, “Here, too.”

“What?”

“Freckles.” Tsukishima traces them, “They’re mine, now.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes nearly roll back from his tone alone. So low, so _sexy._ Fuck, Yamaguchi is losing his mind.

“It’s all yours.” He grinds his hips down, not even shameless with his dick out, hard against his navel.

Tsukishima flips his glasses back down, looks Yamaguchi in the eye, and spits into his hand before pumping Yamaguchi once. The latter keens, wiggling, sparking alive.

“I use the greenlight system.” Tsukishima explains, out of nowhere, as he pumps Yamaguchi at a steady, stupidly good pace, “Green is go,” his hand twists, “yellow is slow down,” he swirls up to the head, and thumbs through spit, “and red is stop.” His hand pauses, before it slides back down, drawing more needy noises out of Yamaguchi.

“G-got it.”

“I talk a lot of shit.” Tsukishima tips his head, and mutters against Yamaguchi’s ear. “Sometimes I can be mean. Tell me yellow or red. I’ll listen.”

That’s…actually really cool. Yamaguchi didn’t think it was possible to like him even more than he already did.

Tsukishima spits into his hand again, and goes back to jerking him smoothly, with a refined technique that makes Yamaguchi’s head spin. Wow, wow, holy shit wow. Yamaguchi used to pride himself on his stamina, but not anymore.

“ _Hhn, f-fuck._ ”

Tsukishima uses his free hand to cradle Yamaguchi’s neck, and tip it right where he can lick around the back of Yamaguchi’s ear.

“Oh my g _o~d._ ” Yamaguchi groans, and thrusts up into his hand, “Hah, wh-what-“

“Sometimes that gets people.” Tsukishima notes, “Sometimes it doesn’t.” He bites his earlobe, and twists his hand, and Yamaguchi thinks he might die.

“Shit. Shit. _Shit._ ” He grinds his hips down, and grips Tsukishima’s shirt. He wants to reciprocate, wants to kiss him, wants to _touch_ him, but his brain is sparking, struggling with the effort of not coming on the spot. It’s all so overwhelming, having someone he’s lusted after like this. A part of him is glad, glad that Tsukishima is taking his time.

“I should make you work for it.” Tsukishima mumbles, “Should I? Maybe leave you like this again. Say _come by next week._ ”

Yamaguchi moans, probably too loud for just a handy, but still, fuck. Damn. Hot _damn._

“I won’t.” Tsukishima decides, and rubs his palm across the head in circles, “Mostly because I want to watch your face as you come.” His palm tightens, and his hand slips right back down, down, towards his balls. “Mm, will you look ugly? Some do.”

“You’re about to find out.” Yamaguchi pants back, head tipping, chest heaving. “ _Hhn-_ “

Tsukishima shows mercy, and speeds up his pace, watching Yamaguchi’s face as he gasps, as his thighs squeeze and his body trembles. “ _K-Kei-_ “ He gasps against him, hips thrusting beyond his control. The coil springs free- Yamaguchi moans, body tingling, waves swirling from head to toe. He's needed this, needed this- 

Tsukishima works him through it all, the hand on his neck prodding him forwards, coaxing him into a kiss.

Yamaguchi doesn’t really kiss back, so much as moan garbage attempts at his name. Tsukishima seems to like it, if for the hardon pressing against Yamaguchi’s thigh.

“Hhhah.” Yamaguchi pants, as he pulls back, slowly opening his eyes. His body pulses, but slows its excitement, his breath slowly evening out. “Shit.”

“Mm.” Tsukishima looks between them. He caught most of it on his hand, but his shirt took some damage.

“Sorry.” Yamaguchi pants, pulling up his jeans.

“Mm, it’s fine.” He purrs, “You certainly weren’t ugly.”

Yamaguchi chokes out a sad attempt at a laugh, focusing more on the fact that holy _shit_ the object of his affections just jerked him off. Yamaguchi isn’t sure what he did in a past life to deserve this, but fuck is he glad.

He notices Tsukishima watching him as he pulls his jeans back up. He eyes Yamaguchi; eyes him for a long, long time. Finally, he smirks, and apparently decides to test the waters. He lifts his hand, and demands, “Lick it off.”

Yamaguchi blinks, half naked in his lap. He meets his gaze, but he can’t even _dream_ of refusing. There’s something about his tone, his body language. Yamaguchi wants to listen to every word he says. Sit at his feet as he reads his grocery list. Climb in his pocket and hear him talk all day.

Alright. Let’s test the waters.

He takes Tsukishima’s hand between his fingers, looks him in the eye, and _grins,_ because he’s actually wanted these fingers in his mouth for quite a long time, so _ha._

Yamaguchi starts slow.

He licks from his palm, to his middle finger, slow and as sexy as he can manage. He swirls his tongue around his fingertip, before slipping two fingers into his mouth and sucking. Tsukishima’s eyes widen, like he didn’t expect Yamaguchi to listen. He’s silent, watching intensively as Yamaguchi sucks his fingers clean. Yamaguchi wiggles his tongue around, and pulls the fingers out, licking down to his ring, and pinky. It doesn’t taste great, but Yamaguchi doesn’t focus on that, instead, thinking about those knuckles. Long, pretty fingers. Piano hands, made for music.

He licks down to his palm once more, and then resumes mouthing across his fingers. He eyes the taller- he's sure he looks lewd, spit and cum dripping past his lips. Tsukishima makes his first move, slowly petting Yamaguchi’s tongue. He huffs, but lets his jaw relax, Tsukishima now free to slowly fuck his mouth, fingers feeling along his cheeks, where they’re scarred from braces. He taps against his tongue once more, before slipping his fingers out.

Tsukishima looks at his hand; Yamaguchi looks at him. His breathing is _just_ a little heavy, his eyes slightly fogged over.

“Jokes on you.” Yamaguchi coos, and presses a kiss against his palm, “I’ve had more wet dreams about these hands than you can count.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen, and his breath sucks in with a faint gasp. Yamaguchi smirks, and kisses his palm again.

In mere seconds, Tsukishima has a hand at the back of Yamaguchi’s hair, tugging him forwards, kissing him so hard his lips bruise. He licks into his mouth, licks for any taste left of Yamaguchi, and his fingers- licks and kisses so hard Yamaguchi’s eyes roll back, and his body melts.

Yes, yes. Yamaguchi was nervous, but it was over nothing.

Tsukishima is his now, and he’s not letting him go.

* * *

 

Dating his piano teacher is really interesting.

First of all, he does _not_ get free lessons. He tried, but that was firm no. That’s cool.

But there’s the matter of dates; Tsukishima is a fine gentleman, in all honesty. They go out to restaurants, movies, hold hands and kiss in the back of his car. It’s sweet and fun, with all the adorableness that comes with dating.

Also the sex? A1. Fantastic. 100% on Rotten Tomatoes. _“Great Dick!”_ Movie goers said, “ _A fucking of the century!”_  10/10 IGN.

Tsukishima really lives up to his self-assessed 'terrible personality'. He’s so commanding, sometimes shoving Yamaguchi on his knees, or his back, sometimes tying up his hands and sucking his dick so hard he screams. His mouth is so, _so_ filthy, which is the best thing Yamaguchi could’ve asked for. You would have never guessed, that the polite, kind piano teacher was the kind of guy to say _ride my dick Tadashi, hard, until you cry, I want to see you cry –_ and – _such a cockslut, you are, choke on it, choke on it Tadashi-_

Mmm, Yamaguchi could _purr_ at the memories. He’s really found someone good for him – someone to grip his hair and fuck him hard, but kiss every bruise after. Tsukishima is surprisingly good with aftercare, which is Yamaguchi’s favorite part of sex, to be honest. He really likes curling up at his side, drawing circles on his naked chest until he sleeps.

With his dirty mouth, comes the sweet words too.

_You were so good, Tadashi._

_So beautiful._

_I’m so proud of you._

Yamaguchi adores him, adores him so much his heart beats way too fast when he’s near. Like, hello, heart. Calm the fuck down, you’re _dating_ that.

But naw, his heart is still like _holy shit holy shit holy f u c k that’s yours! You date that!_

Which is rad as hell.

* * *

 

“This sucks.” Tsukishima says, as he chews, now brutally honest in their four months of dating.

“Shh!” Yamgauchi giggles, “They’ll hear you.”

“I don’t give a shit. This is awful. Are they allergic to like, all seasonings ever?”

“Oh shush, Tsukki. You’d think water is spicy.”

Tsukishima snorts at the comeback, and perks up when the attention turns this way.

“How is your meal, Kei?” Yamaguchi’s mother smiles, hands behind her back.

“Wonderful.” He smiles.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you very much.” He nods with a smile, and turns back to Yamaguchi with a _help me_ look.

Yamaguchi laughs, and laughs. His mom is a shit cook, but a kind lady – his sister is giggling from across the table, and his parents can’t figure out why.

* * *

 

“You keep forgetting the F sharp.” Tsukishima says, calm in that teacher tone, “It’s not going to be written in on every note. You have to remember.”

“R-right.” 

“Again.”

D, D, E ,G, B, A , D D, F, G-

“Wrong.” Tsukishima calls. “The F sharp, remember?”

Yamaguchi swallows, and closes his eyes for a moment, just to breathe. It’s hard to play with just one hand, as his forearm braces against the top of the piano, and his thighs are spread. The cockring around his dick is tight. The pink stockings are slipping down his thighs. His brain is so fuzzed, so full of _Tsukki, Tsukki,_ that of course he can’t remember that damn F sharp.

“T-Tsukishima.” Yamaguchi pants, and closes his eyes, “I-“

“Are you giving up?” Tsukishima calls behind him, and twists the vibrator with a flick of his wrist. Yamaguchi jolts, crying out, chest heaving.

“N-No-“

“No what?”

“No sir.”

“Good.” Tsukishima coos, and runs his fingers down the curve of Yamaguchi’s tan back. He thumbs over the bottom of the toy, and shoves it in far just for fun, “Again.”

Yamaguchi yelps, but shakily reaches down towards the keys. He begins the sequence, the rhythm nonexistent at this point, but he _does_ reach that F sharp, barely. Tsukishima pulls out the vibrator, and thrusts it back in. Yamaguchi moans, and his fingers slip, hitting a few wrong keys on the way there.

Tsukishima’s voice is calm, without strain. “That’s not the right position for your wrist.”

“S-sorry-“

“Try again.”

Yamaguchi squeezes his eyes shut, and wiggles his hips a little, seeking _some_ kind of friction. He’s been on the edge for so, so long-

“Tadashi.”

“Hnngg-“ Yamaguchi pants, and swallows, “I-I’m, t-technically paying f-for this you know.”

“You are.” Tsukishima nods, “Then you better get in all the practice you can get. Again.”

Yamaguchi’s hands shake: D, D, E ,G, B, A ….A…A……A.......

“Did your dumb brain short circuit?” Tsukishima teases, and flicks against his skull, “Something break up there?”

Usually the teasing is a turn on, but Yamaguchi is already so close – he’s almost starting to panic. His body feels like it’s shutting down, his brain isn’t working right. He needs him, he needs him, he needs Tsukishima, he needs to be told he’s good. His cock bobs, and bobs.

“Hello?” Tsukishima pulls out the vibrator, and twists it back in hard, relentlessly, forcing Yamaguchi to cry out. “Earth to idiot? Are you in there?”

“Y-yellow!” Yamaguchi cries out, “Yellow!”

The toy slows, Tsukishima’s voice dips coolly, “Mm. Can you play one more time? Just for me? You’re doing good.”

Yamaguchi can’t, he can’t, but Tsukishima asked him to, so he will.

He plays halfway through the first stanza, but the toy buzzes right against his prostate; his hand pounds into the keys with a loud _duaaanggg_ as Yamaguchi’s soul physically leaves his body.

“Ahh! Ahhnnn!”

But he can’t come, not with the cockring. He’s dancing on the line between heaven and hell, truly.

“What do you want?” Tsukishima purrs, “Tell me.”

Yamaguchi feels fingers reach down, and gently pull up the stockings where they’ve fallen. He pants to get his voice back, before he gasps, “You! Please! F- _F_ _uck_ me!”

“Here?” Tsukishima sounds appalled, “On my piano? That’s pretty filthy of you.”

“Please.” Yamaguchi begs – all the attitude has bled out of him, through sweat and tears. “Please.”

“Well,” Tsukishima pulls out the toy, slow and careful, “maybe I’ll sedate you, since you’ve been good.”

Yamaguchi keens, vibrating with raw need. His fingers dig into the top of the piano now, waiting impatiently. There’s the sound of more lube; there’s a hand at his waist, a cock against his ass.

The hand smooths up his back, towards his hair, and pulls slightly, before he thrusts halfway in, ripping a guttural cry from Yamaguchi’s throat. He pulls his hair, he fucks in. Tsukishima fucks him, and fucks him, hips snapping so hard that Yamaguchi’s hand slips again, occasionally pounding keys on the piano. It’s bad for the piano – Tsukishima knows this, but does it anyways, just to hear Yamaguchi scream, the beautiful bastard.

Yamaguchi’s eyes roll back, his hips meet thrust for thrust, the thigh-highs fall to his knees. He cries, he begs, he calls Tsukishima’s name over, and over, until the neighbors can spell it backwards. The hand in his hair tugs until his head turns, turns until Tsukishima can meet him in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and spit, dripping across chins. Tsukishima bites his bottom lip hard enough to bleed – Yamaguchi sobs.

He’s on the edge, he’s on the _edge._ So close, so, so – he can’t, his brain won’t It, sentences? Can’t ,, can no t- ‘

Tsukishima senses his panic, feels the hyperventilation in his throat, hears the half attempts at his name. He pulls back, and releases the grip in his hair, flattening his hands back down to his hips and mouthing, “Beautiful. You’ve been so obedient.”

His cock slams in slick with lube, hard with power.

“Hah, wonderful-“ Tsukishima pants, against his back. “You’ve earned this.”

The cock ring disappears; Yamaguchi grips onto the piano and _screams,_ fucking back hard, yelling when Tsukishima jerks him off through it. Time becomes worthless to Yamaguchi as Tsukishima fucks him, until it’s Tsukishima’s turn, filling his ass, letting out his own needy noises.

Yamaguchi’s body tingles, shakes, and shivers.

Fuck, fuck. Yamaguchi looks down and sees that he missed the piano keys. Thank fuck.

His head hurts. His everything hurts, actually, but it’s a good ache. An ache that means Tsukishima about fucked him to death, which is the only way Yamaguchi wants to go.

Tsukishima is still breathing behind him. Yamaguchi thinks he might be talking, but he’s not sure. Everything sounds distant, and far away. He thinks he might’ve dropped to subspace, at one point.

Tsukishima moves to pull out, and Yamaguchi whines, high in his throat. Tsukishima pauses, and brings a hand to softly curl against his hip. “I’m right here.” He slips out, and suddenly Yamaguchi feels gross, sticky, sticky as hell. His legs are shaky. He’s gripping the edge of the piano too hard.

Hands come around to pry his fingers away – Yamaguchi looks into the eyes of Tsukishima, and swoons. He’s beautiful. Beautiful.

“Shh.” He mumbles, coaxing Yamaguchi to stand up straight, “Let’s get you clean.”

Yamaguchi isn’t sure if he can walk. He’s not sure why he isn’t talking, either. He’s got lots, and lots and lots of thoughts, but they won’t turn into words. Tsukishima hums, and kisses his cheek, “You did good. Hold on, okay?”

He’s lifted up. The next time he’s set down, it’s in an empty bathtub. Then a full bathtub, as the water rises.

Tsukishima adjusts his jeans on his hips – Yamaguchi notes that he’s still shirtless.

“I’m going to get us clean clothes,” he says.

 _No!_ Yamaguchi grabs his wrist, chest heaving, water sloshing out of the tub.

“W-woah.” Tsukishima blinks, “Okay, okay. What do you want?”

“Come here.” Yamaguchi mumbles. He’s already sleepy, the warm water soothing his aches.

“We’re too big to both fit.” Tsukishima says, but sits down on the edge of the tub. He hesitates a moment, before he scoops up water, sloshing it over Yamaguchi’s hair. Yamaguchi hums, and actually relaxes. Tsukishima sloshes more water, fingers occasionally brushing through the strands. “Did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head, “No.”

“Your head doesn’t hurt?”

“It does.” Yamaguchi notes, and leans into his touch like he needs it, “But it was good.”

Tsukishima hums, and reaches for the shampoo. Yamaguchi zones in and out as he lathers his hair, and rinses it clean. Yamaguchi’s fighting spirit will come back soon, but for now, it’s all fucked out of him. Gone, till tomorrow.

* * *

 

Tsukishima comes over on a free day – Yamaguchi snuggles into his lap and stays there, mouth at his throat, lazily sucking hickeys beneath his collar just because he can.

“You’re lucky I wear button ups.” Tsukishima says, voice smooth, as he looks at the T.V. behind Yamaguchi’s head.

“Mm.” Yamaguchi hums, and sucks another, low against his collarbone. He licks over it, and presses his index finger into the forming bruise, just to watch the blood fill more. “They look pretty on you. You’re so pale.”

“I know for a _fact_ that bruises look beautiful on you.” Tsukishima says, somehow, with a straight face.

Yamaguchi flushes, but laughs nonetheless, pressing a kiss against his neck. “You smell good.”

“And you’re needy.” Tsukishima replies, and clicks off the T.V. He pulls back to look Yamaguchi in the eye. “What do you want?”

“Attention.” Yamaguchi admits, and squirms more. “Our schedules hardly match up lately.”

“Mmm.” Tsukishima rolls him in his arms and twists, back onto the bed, pulling Yamaguchi on top of him. He squeezes hard and snuggly, and Yamaguchi practically purrs in his arms.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Mmm yes. Thank you.”

Tsukishima runs his blunt nails through Yamaguchi’s long hair. He thumbs around his ears in lazy circles, and locks his knee against Yamaguchi’s hip. Yamaguchi is oozing with happiness, squirming to get as close as possible.

Tsukishima is very good to him – Yamaguchi appreciates that. Ah, but in turn, Yamaguchi is good too. He’ll take the spreader bars, the leather, the deep commands and bite marks – but that stays in the bedroom, behind safe words.

“I love you.” Yamaguchi purrs, out of nowhere, because he just can’t hold it in anymore. He just can’t.

“I know.” Tsukishima tugs gently on his hair, prodding Yamaguchi to look him in the eye. “You know I love you?”

Yamaguchi thinks of their dates, of piano lessons and movie nights. Of snuggling in on couches and feeding each other horrible food combinations for a good laugh. Of sex against shower walls and hallway floors.

“Yessir.” Yamaguchi purrs.

Tsukishima makes a noise of agreement, and rolls them over, Yamaguchi squished between his arms, giggling as Tsukishima noses into his neck, right where he’s ticklish.

* * *

 

“So,” Suga kicks his legs up on Daichi’s lap, “what you’re telling me is…he treats you like garbage, and you love him.”

“He treats me like garbage in the _bedroom._ ”

“Right. In the bedroom.”

“Hey.” Yamaguchi points, “Don’t give me that look.” 

“Oh no, I understand.” Sugawara raises an eyebrow, “I’m just not sure if this is…healthy.”

“You wouldn’t get it,” Yamaguchi waves his hand, “especially with your vanilla sex life.”

“Hey!” Suga barks, but Daichi only laughs behind his hand. "I'm offended by that." 

“I mean…I can see how it’s a little weird.” Yamaguchi draws his knees up, “But I dunno’…he’s really good to me too.”

“Do you guys fight at all?” Daichi asks.

Yamaguchi shrugs, “Sometimes we argue. But I mean, the worst fight we had was over the pronunciation of _gif._ ”

Daichi snorts, and Suga rolls his eyes.

“I’m serious! I got so mad, like, you don’t say _jift_ or a _jirl._  I kicked him out of my house and he didn’t talk to me for three days.”

“I change my mind.” Suga laughs, “You two are a moronic match made in heaven.”

“We had makeup sex in the back of a Del Taco bathroom.”

“Oh my god.”

* * *

 

{received 3:45 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_> hey yama_

{sent 3:50 p.m.}

_yes? <_

{received 3:51 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_> you like dogs right_

{sent: 3:51 p.m.}

_I FUCKING LOVE DOGS <_

{received 3:52 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_ >Received 1 photo attachment _

__

_> I saw him while walking to CVS_

_{_ sent: 3:53 p.m.}

_OHHHH MYY GOOOOOSH <_

_BABE <_

_BABY <_

_HE’S BEAUTIFUL <_

{received 3:54 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_> His name is pancake_

_> I stopped and asked because I thought youd like to know_

{sent: 3:54 p.m.}

_PANCAKE??!!! <_

I love you <

Don’t ever leave me <

{received 4:00 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_> I also saw this one_

_> Received 1 photo attachment_

> _his name is Diego_

{sent: 4:01 p.m}

_fUCK <_

_is this what true love is <_

{received 4:02 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_> probably_

{sent: 4:03 p.m.}

_Dude im gonna’ suck your dick so hard tonight <_

 

{received 4:04 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

{sent: 4:04 p.m.}

_I’M FUCKIN DEAD <_

_Also can you pick up dinner tnight <_

{received 4:10 p.m.} **Tsukki** **ヽ(⌐** **■_** **■)** **ノ** **♪♬:**

_> kk_

* * *

 

They sit with takeout food on their laps, squished together, backs to the foot of the couch. Yamaguchi swirls his chopsticks as he laughs,  hardly even paying attention to the movie anymore.

“So you’ve never owned a dog?”

“Nope.” Tsukishima chews, “Only cats.”

“Dogs are the best.” Yamaguchi assures him, “ _The best_.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tsukishima smiles, and twirls his Chow Mein.

“Just you wait. One day we’ll get one, and you’ll fall in love with them.”

“We?” Tsukishima blinks, and Yamaguchi chokes, suddenly, on his rice.

Yamaguchi pauses. He coughs, “I mean uh.” His face reddens; damn, he just let that slip, didn’t he? Nothing is worse than those people that jump ahead in relationships. A shared dog ownership is very intimate, you know? It’s practically your _baby._ Oh god, Tsukishima doesn’t want to be the father to his dog baby. Oh god-

“Sounds good.” Tsukishima smiles, and settles back against the couch. “We’d have to get a big enough house for it, though.”

Yamaguchi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and blinks. “Y-you’d do that?”

“Do you want to?” Tsukishima eyes him.

“Of course!” Yamaguchi blurts, “Father my dog baby!”

Tsukishima sputters out a laugh, setting his chopsticks aside. Yamaguchi’s face reddens more, but Tsukishima raises a hand, and cradles the side of Yamaguchi’s red face in his palm. “You are so strange.”

“I’m sorry-“

He crosses the distance - presses a kiss that tastes like orange chicken and egg rice. Tsukishima pops back with a smirk, and settles back down.

“Don’t apologize. What should we name the metaphorical dog baby?”

Yamaguchi’s grins.

* * *

 

“Fuck, Tadashi.” Tsukishima says, mask cracking, eyes flickering this way and that. He shifts a little on his knees, not moving, only watching. “You’re making this so difficult, you know.”

Yamaguchi keens, hands pulling against the restraints, eyes watering behind the blindfold. The soft, plush fur of the tail plug bristles against his thighs, now sensitive after so long. Thrusting his hips up does nothing; the small vibrating cockring only buzzes slowly – not enough to get him off, just, barely to keep him hard.

“Wow.” Tsukishima speaks again, his voice everywhere but where Yamaguchi needs it most. Gentle fingers trace the inside of his naked thigh, right along the line of muscle. Yamaguchi’s skin sparks alive; he makes a choked noise, his body wiggling and squirming closer to the touch – but it falls away. Tsukishima coos, “You are my Achilles heel, Tadashi.”

 _Fuck,_ when Tsukishima says his name like that, the world just falls away. It disappears under Yamaguchi’s feet – everything dissipates.

Yamaguchi begs, leaking, wet, obscene, “ _Please, please-“_

The doorbell rings.

“That’s her.” Tsukishima smiles; Yamaguchi feels his weight lift up off the bed. “The lesson will be over in an hour.”

“You c-can’t leave me like this.” Yamaguchi cries out, fingers twisting in the bindings and pulling hard. The headboard smacks against the wall.

Tsukishima clicks his tongue, “You can’t make too much noise, especially when I have company over. His voice drifts farther away, “You’ve got to earn your orgasms, Tadashi. They belong to me, after all.”

Yamaguchi sobs.

“Mmm, how wonderful it’ll be,” Tsukishima coos, “knowing you’re here in the next room, hard and ready to be fucked.”

“ _Kei!-“_

“Green light?” Tsukishima interrupts, serious and sexy.

Yamaguchi swallows – sticks his hips back down to the bed and breathes.

“Green light.”

“I’ll be back.” Tsukishima states, and shuts the door with a click.

Then, time becomes tangible. It becomes something Yamaguchi can _feel,_ because every second, every click of the clock on the wall, it _burns._

 _Vrrrrrrr_ The Vibrator says.

 _Fuck you!_ Yamaguchi cries back. He wiggles his hips around – thinks, maybe, if he twists enough he can rut against the bed. Ah, but the restraints are tight, and the plug in his ass shifts, and Yamaguchi moans into the empty room.

The blindfold is gathering sweat from his temples. His heartbeat is racing, racing, thinking, aching for the moment Tsukishima will come back.

There’s the distant, soft cooing of a young piano player. Yamaguchi figures out that if he’s quiet enough, he can hear Tsukishima’s voice.

_Good job. Try that one more time._

Yamaguchi gasps, and lifts his hips, searching for any kind of relief.

_Vrrrrrrrr Vrrrrrrrrrr_

_Tick, Tick, Tick._

Yamaguchi’s cock bobs every time Tsukishima’s muffled voice reaches him. His limbs tense, his mouth falls open.

He’s so turned on, he might die.

* * *

 

The most beautiful noise Yamaguchi has ever heard, is a door.

The sound of a knob turning.

Yamaguchi has no idea what he looks like, but it’s gotta’ be obscene, because Tsukishima opens the door and _moans._

 _“Tadashi._ ” He gasps, and slams the door shut behind him, “Tadashi.”

“Kei!” He calls back, jolting to life, filling with hope and hope and _hope-_ “Kei! Touch me! Please!”

A knee dips in the bed, thighs brace under his own. The contact makes Yamaguchi's back arch; his mouth falls open in a permanent gasp. Hands smooth up his chest and towards his cheeks, tipping his head up for a kiss that suddenly means everything, means the _world._

 _“Beautiful._ ” Tsukishima says against him, “So needy. Such a beautiful slut, you are. So good.”

Yamaguchi writhes, and pants; Tsukishima’s body weight presses down against his swollen cock, and he cries.

“ _Please._ ”

“You should see yourself.” Tsukishima says, and suddenly, the dark world goes light. Yamaguchi blinks, through shock and tears – Tsukishima looms above him, his pupils blown wide, hands making work to uncuff his hands. His wrists go free, and Yamaguchi feels himself twisted, flipped around, tossed and turned until he’s between Tsukishima’s legs, thighs hooked over his knees.

He’s forced to look straight at the full length closet mirror across from them – goddamn, this is not Yamaguchi’s proudest moment. He looks like he’s been through hell and back, dick bobbing against his hip, tail between his legs, muscles trembling. His thighs are spread wider as Tsukishima tugs his knees apart, and Yamaguchi groans, head falling back against his shoulder. 

“Incredible.” Tsukishima praises, “Gorgeous.” The vibrator comes off – “Stunning” – then the plug, with a squelch of lube.

Yamaguchi comes alive with each compliment, tongue slipping lose, eyes rolling back as hands press _everywhere._ Each touch burns, every whisper something he _yearned for._

Tsukishima sits him on his dick, and they lose themselves in each other.

* * *

 

Valentines day is a disaster; a mishap of trying to be what they’re not.

It’s then that Yamaguchi decides that they are what _they_ are. The roses are nice, chocolates too – but Yamaguchi loves _him_ the most, tall, lean curves, blonde hair, smooth words and all.

In turn Tsukishima loves him back, quirks, kinks, and everything inbetween.

* * *

 

 

“I think you’re getting better.” Tsukishima says, behind a cup of coffee.

“You think?”

“Yeah, but you keep dropping your wrists, moron.”

Yamaguchi sputters, “Some encouraging boyfriend _you_ are.”

“I’m your teacher, too.”

Yamaguchi sticks out his tongue, and Tsukishima smirks, “Watch it. I’ll bite that off.”

Yamaguchi playfully snaps his teeth in response, and Tsukishima huffs a small laugh, before leaning down and catching his lips, coaxing them open quickly and pulling away. “Again.”

He huffs after the kiss, “Make me~.”

“You know I can.” Tsukishima sets down his cup, and rests his hands on Yamaguchi’s shoulders,standing behind him,  “What’s with the salt, today?”

“Dunno’. You’re rubbing off on me, I guess.”

Tsukishima snorts, and kneads his thumbs into Yamaguchi’s shoulders. _Mmmm_ yes, that feels good. Yes, yes, perfect hands. Good at everything, they are.

Light streams in from the open window – it’s a nice winter day, cool, but not too chilly. Yamaguchi slumps back against him, closing his eyes as those hands massage up his neck, then down his back.

“We should probably go back to unpacking.”

“Nah.” Yamaguchi looks up – Tsukishima still looks beautiful, even upside down. “Let’s nap.”

Tsukishima smirks, and squeezes his shoulders once more for good measure. “You practice, I’ll keep unpacking.”

Yamaguchi pouts – watches him go back to all the moving boxes, and slowly unpack all his music. He looks up, back around the room, and down the hallway. This home is open, not too big, but clean and bright, and everything Yamaguchi could’ve wanted.

 _Their_ home.

Next on the list: a dog. 

* * *

 

Life has a funny way of picking and choosing what it wants to give you.

Yamaguchi hates his fucking job. Hates it, despises it. Thinks it’s boring as hell.

But Tsukishima. Mmm yes, baby _yes._ The MegaCrush wasn’t curbstomped, instead, watered and fed and nurtured until it turned into such a beautiful flower, the vines growing around Yamaguchi’s limbs and tying them like leather to a headboard.

Yes, life gave him Tsukishima.

Life gave him a home full of music, a home full of Tsukishima playing in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. A life full of toys, a life full of too much alfredo.

You can’t have too many good things, you know? If everything was perfect, how would Yamaguchi remember to ogle over the stretchmarks on his white hips? How would Yamaguchi appreciate morning sex on the floor? How would he _love_ someone so much?

Yamaguchi is in love with his piano teacher.

Sweet summer love. A good thing. 


End file.
